


Obsessions

by D_f_m22



Series: Miranda before Cassie [1]
Category: The Flight Attendant (TV)
Genre: Gen, Mental Health Issues, Pre-Canon, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29677008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D_f_m22/pseuds/D_f_m22
Summary: “I just had to check. I thought—-“Viktor let out a deep sigh. “And there it is. The very thing I was worried about. Your little quirk back is it?”“What?” Miranda scoffed. “It’s nothing like before.”Except it was.“Really? Because where I’m sitting, it looks like your obsessions are back. More than that you seem to be acting on the compulsions.”
Series: Miranda before Cassie [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180763
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Obsessions

**Author's Note:**

> A one shot to end to Miranda’s back story.
> 
> Feedback always appreciated

Flights that landed at night had always been Miranda’s favourites. It was quieter- especially when she travelled out of season- and with less background distractions, she was able to think more clearly. 

Not that she often needed help to think. More often than not, she needed help to not think. 

Her footprint in the red blood. 

She shook her head, ridding herself of the thought. Not enough. Her hand in her pocket tightened around her butterfly knife- popping it open as she let the sharp edge glide along the outside edge of her hand; deepening a cut that was already there. 

One. Two. Three. Four. 

There, that was enough. At least for now. 

As she walked through customs at Heathrow airport, she smiled at the blanket of darkness that promised to greet her outside the gleaming arrivals lobby. All she had to do was make it to her ride and survive the thirty minute drive to her flat so she could open up the whisky that was waiting for her and (hopefully) rid herself of the endless thoughts that had been on a loop in her mind since before she had been sent to Riga. 

First of all, she had to make it through the small crowd of people gathered in front of her; waiting for those that had just landed. There was a mixture of families and drivers but they were relatively sparse in numbers compared to what the crowds would be like in few months time when the summer season arrived.

Still, any sized crowd was too much for Miranda. How she wished she could just push through them. Alas, violence of any sort was discouraged at airport. Security got jumpy...

“Miranda, darling!” 

Her name and that voice caught her off guard. 

She stopped suddenly, frozen to the spot. A businessman who had been walking behind her nearly crashed into her and tutted loudly as he carried on his way. Miranda mumbled a curse in his direction and turned slowly in the direction her name had been called from. 

Stood in front of her, a hand raised in greeting and a smile that- if she didn’t know better- would look welcoming was Viktor. Just behind him were two of his heavies.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Miranda dug the blade into the outside edge of her hand again.

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Relief; for a second.

Then, she squeezed her eyes shut for a second before she tilted her head to the left and shot Viktor a crooked smile and headed towards him.

“Viktor,” Miranda greeted as she reached her boss. Carefully, she leaned in- hands still deep in the pockets of her coat- and let herself be kissed on either cheek. “What have I done to deserve the VIP pick up?” 

Her voice was light, a forced calmness to her words, as she stepped away from Viktor and nodded behind him at the two heavies. A strand of hair fell loose from its French twist and she used her right hand to push the loose strand behind her ear. 

Internally, she cursed as she realised it was her bloodied hand. There was no way Viktor hadn’t seen it and it would be a weakness he could add to his catalogue. Hastily she shoved her hand back in her pocket, hoping he might have missed it. 

The smallest flicker of a smirk that crossed his features proved that he hadn’t missed it. 

Without saying a word, Viktor directed one of his heavies to take Miranda’s luggage- a chic leather over the shoulder bag- from her. Miranda watched as the bag was taken from her. She felt Viktor’s hand on her elbow, guiding her in the direction of the short stay car park. Within five minutes, she was sat in the back of a black four by four; Viktor sat to her right and the two heavies sat in the front. She’d learned one- the driver- was called Adrian.

She waited until they had been on the road for about ten minutes; every possible reason for Viktor’s unexpected arrival running through her head, until she spoke again. 

When she did, it was with a forced confidence that hid the shake in her voice. 

“So, what’s this about Viktor?” She asked coolly. Hand in pocket digging the blade into the outside edge of her hand.

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Momentary relief.

“Isn’t the welcome party usually reserved for newbies?” 

Viktor chuckled- that dark, controlled chuckle that sent chills down the spines of many very scary people. Herself included. 

“Darling,” Viktor said, voice level and controlled. Miranda flinched as she felt his hand on her knee. She buried the urge to push him away and took a deep breath. “You’re no newbie. I just wanted to take you out to dinner and have a little chat.” 

Miranda took a deep breath in, turning to look at Viktor as she gave him a quick nod. Images of her foot print in the blood flashed across her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut again, shaking her head. 

In her pocket she pressed her knife against the outside edge of her hand again. 

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Blissful relief for a second. 

“Interesting,” Viktor commented. “I thought you’d left that particular quirk back on the streets of Glasgow with your drug running days...”

Miranda felt Viktor’s hand on her right wrist, tugging it out of her pocket. She held onto her butterfly knife tighter, curling her hand- which was by this stage bloodied and cut- around it. 

Viktor tutted.

“You’ll get it back,” he said calmly, like a parent chastising a naughty toddler. “But I can’t have you cutting up that hand anymore. That hand is how you work.” 

To an outsider, Viktor’s words might have sounded like he was concerned about her. Maybe he was, a tiny bit. They had worked together for nearly three decades. It was more likely, however, that he was more concerned about his business interests than her wellbeing. 

“It’s my knife,” Miranda said, rather pointlessly. “I’m not giving it to you.” 

“Again, you’ll get it back,” Viktor replied. “You do trust me, Miranda?” 

She wanted to reply that she’d be stupid to trust him but that would be seen as insubordination. Instead, she said “of course,” and dropped the knife into his waiting hand. 

Viktor took the knife and pocketed it before taking Miranda’s hand and squeezing it once more. It stung, putting pressure onto the deep cut. 

“Fuck you,” Miranda hissed as she pulled her hand away and turned to face the window. 

Viktor laughed again. “You really do want to work on that anger. How about some relaxing music. Or a meditation? Adrian, could you put the Spotify playlist named Miranda on please. I keep it for occasions like this.” 

“Well of course you do,” Miranda replied, voice sickly sweet but anger thinly veiled. She rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes, exhaling deeply.

“Good idea,” Viktor commented. “You rest, enjoy the meditation. When we get to the restaurant I have a private room booked. We’ll get that hand sorted and then I think we’ll have a chat about why you thought it was fucking appropriate to go on a job while you are clearly having one of your episodes.” 

The sarcasm was blatant and expected. Miranda didn’t reply, she knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she actually did what he said- listened to the meditation tape (Christ, was that whale sounds?) and took a deep breath. 

Xxxxxxxx

“Adrian, tell the kitchen we’ll have a coq au Vin and crab linguine. I take it that’s still your preferred dish here?

Miranda glared, but nodded. She hated that he ordered for her and hated even more that he had got her order right. 

“And a bottle of Pinot noir please Adrian. The most expensive one,” Miranda added, smiling pointedly at Viktor. “That’s still your preferred drink, right?” 

Viktor chuckled and laughed darkly. “Absolutely.” 

Miranda smiled, all teeth as she sat back and regarded her boss. Adrian left the private room, busying himself with the order.

“Hand,” Viktor ordered once they were alone in the room. He pulled a small first aid kit out of his business bag. When Miranda didn’t react, he said more harshly, “now, Miranda.” 

Miranda sighed but held her hand out to him. Without warning, Viktor began to wipe at the deep cut with an antiseptic wipe. He wasn’t gentle and Miranda was certain he was making it as painful as possible. She refused to show that it was hurting, gaze directed just over his shoulders at the red velvet curtains instead of looking at Viktor. After taking much longer than was necessary, Miranda felt Viktor place a large plaster over her cut. It was just in time as Adrian returned with the bottle of wine and two glasses. 

“There,” he cooed, voice still laced with a promised threat. “Aren’t I nice to take care of your hand? I wouldn’t do that for a newbie.” 

“Thank you,” Miranda replied. Pouring a generous glass of wine, lifting it to her lips and taking a large gulp. “Now, I suppose it’s down to business.” 

Viktor smiled broadly and nodded as he reached into his bag and pulled out a Manila file containing photos from hotel security. He spread them across the table for Miranda to see. 

“First photo- you arrive at the hotel at 1:45 am. Very good, no one around and you get into the room with no trouble at all. Second photo- you leaving at 2:01am. I take it the job was complete?” 

Miranda nodded. Took another sip. Felt her mind start to race with fresh thoughts- the blood, the footprint... could she really be sure? Subconsciously, she reached for her knife only to remember it wasn’t there. Instead, she found herself rearranging the knife and fork; making sure they were just right. 

Viktor noticed and smirked. 

“Yes, he was dead by 1:55am and I had collected the hard drive by 2:00am. In fact, that hard drive is in my bag that Adrian so kindly took from me.” 

“Perfect. In and out case then,” Viktor said. As he spoke he placed two more photos down on the table. 

Miranda took another sip of her wine. She knew what was coming, but couldn’t think of anything but...her footprint in the blood. If it was there, it would trace back to her and she’d be the one back in prison. Not Viktor and not the person that had hired Viktor in the first place. Was she worried about prison? Not really. It had never particularly bothered her but that didn’t mean she was able to stop her thoughts on the matter. 

“Except,” Viktor said, drawing her back to the table. “Here you are again, half an hour later. Oh, and again ten minutes after that. It’s hard to tell- it’s a grainy picture and you do have such a good poker face- but I’d say you look worried about something. Did something with the job go wrong, Miranda? Every time the clean up team tried to go in, you returned... It really was quite the inconvenience.”

Miranda shook her head and downed the last of her wine. She didn’t like drinking on an empty stomach and found she was starting to feel the effects quite suddenly. Her mind became fuzzy around the edges, but finally the bombardment of thoughts seemed to numb. 

“I just had to check. I thought—-“

Viktor let out a deep sigh. “And there it is. The very thing I was worried about. Your little quirk back is it?” 

“What?” Miranda scoffed. “It’s nothing like before.” 

Except it was. 

“Really? Because where I’m sitting, it looks like your obsessions are back. More than that you seem to be acting on the compulsions.” 

Viktor nodded towards Miranda’s hand.

Miranda took a deep breath in, felt the anger boiling under her skin and slammed her fist against the table. 

“Temper, temper,” Viktor tutted, unaffected by her outburst. “Now, I understand that your more obsessive traits are what make you good at your job. Hell, no one in our industry is sane, but when those obsessions start to cause problems I start to care.”

Miranda rolled her eyes. “It was a valid concern.” 

“It was completely irrational and you know it. Even if there had been a problem, it would have been sorted. Once a job is done, it’s done. You don’t return to the scene of the crime! You fucked up through thinking you fucked up!” 

“Okay, so what is this? A slap on the wrist before the next job?” 

Viktor ignored her. “Cecilia said you were showing signs of an episode before you left for Riga. Something about always checking the door was locked? Normal paranoia for someone in our field of work, I suppose, but she said it went beyond that. Said it was like the Belfast Affair a few years ago. Nasty business that was...”

“Fuck Cecilia,” Miranda muttered. “And Belfast was more than a few years ago, more like ten.” 

“Cecilia’s more your type than mine. I think it’s sweet, how much you two get on and have your little chats. Do remember, though, I always know everything.” Then he responded to her correction (he hated when she corrected him) with a sharp, “that’s right. Your kid brother was still alive. It must have been a decade ago.” 

Miranda simply nodded, poured a fresh glass of wine and took another sip. Somewhere in the back of her mind she noted that Viktor was yet to have any of the wine. 

“Anyway, Cecilia said that you were clearly unwell before going to Riga. Is that true?” 

Miranda savoured the taste of the wine in her mouth, swirling it around a few times before swallowing. “Aye,” she admitted with a nod. Her accent coming out thicker now she had a few drinks in her. “Aye alright, I was getting a bit off. But that’s why I went on the job! Work always sorts me out.”

“Not this time,” Viktor replied. “Okay. You’re out of action for three weeks starting today. We can’t afford anymore fuck ups because you’re going around the bend.” 

“What?” Miranda scoffed. “No fucking way.” 

“Consider yourself lucky,” Viktor said. “Anyone else and...well, I’m sure you can use your imagination. We put down sick dogs, would be cruel not to do it to humans.”

As he spoke, Adrian reappeared and placed the crab linguine down in front of Miranda followed by the coq au vin in front of Viktor. As he left, he gave the slightest nod in Viktor’s direction. Miranda noted it but couldn’t quite decipher its meaning. Digging her fork in to the linguine, she twirled a hearty portion and took a bite. She knew Viktor wasn’t finished with his monologue, so she decided to savour the food instead. 

“So it’s agreed. No jobs for you for three weeks, Cecilia is going to stay with you at your flat and I’ll drop by weekly.”

“It’s almost like you care, Viktor,” Miranda said through gritted teeth. “Good thing I know better than to believe that anymore...”

“I care about my assets, Miranda,” Viktor said. “You know that. Oh and just so we’re clear, when you do go on a job, I’ve assigned you a partner. Just to be on the safe side...”

Xxxxxxxx

In hindsight, Miranda had realised the food had been laced with a sedative about halfway through the dish. She’d reasoned, however, that Viktor was paying and the sedative was already in her system, so she may as well as enjoy the meal. It was her first substantial meal in at least five days. 

The journey back to her Marylebone flat had been a blur; half asleep and half awake. She’d occasionally mumbled something to Viktor, asking if this had been strictly necessary. He’d replied that he knew her and it absolutely had been. 

Now as she laid on the sofa in her living room, she was able to pick up on mumbled parts of a conversation. She felt something warm press against her face and settle down next to her chest. 

“For you, Cecilia,” Viktor said. Miranda imagined him handing over a wad of cash. “Make sure she does not leave your sight for three weeks. Is that a cat?” 

“It’s her cat,” Cecilia replied. “Don’t ask. What do I do if she tries to leave?” 

“She won’t. I think she knows perfectly well what will happen if she does. Let’s get this under control. If she wants to have mental breaks during her own time, that’s fine by me. I won’t tolerate it while she’s on the job.” 

The door shut and Miranda- even in her sedated state- sensed that the tension in the room had left. Viktor was gone. Light footsteps made their way over to the sofa. 

“Jesus Christ Miranda, I told you not to go to Riga.” 

And I told you not to tell Viktor, Miranda thought to herself.

Xxxxxxxx

“Don’t fucking pretend that you told Viktor I was acting strangely for my own well-being,” Miranda hissed from her position on the sofa. “Granted, I did nearly jeopardise a job but if you’d kept your pretty wee mouth shut, I could have talked my way out of it and been on a job by now!” 

It was a week after she’d arrived back in London. 

One week down, two to go. 

“Yeah. I’m sure that would have gone really well. Now would you just take the damn medication and maybe then we can convince Viktor you can go back out there.” 

Miranda gave in an dry swallowed the pill. 

“I’ll remember this. Just so you know.” 

“Yeah, I’m not likely to forget babysitting a hired assassin any time soon either.”

“I’m not.. that’s not my job title. I do more than kill people.” 

Xxxxxxxxx

Finally, on the twenty-first day of her forced break, a brown envelope arrived. Miranda opened the envelope and read the brief note from Viktor.

Miranda read the note again, in particular the part about her partner and let out a small laugh. 

“Well that’s not going to fucking happen.”


End file.
